Mutually Assured Destruction
by All3Unforgivables
Summary: Reposted upon request; Katniss captures more than the Capital's intense interest as the lovely and talented "Girl on Fire" enters the 74th Games. Meet Peeta Mellark... Career Tribute to District One. Slightly Twisted/ Extremely OOC
1. Chapter 1

**This story of mine was published and taken down about a year and a half ago. Honestly, I'm going to try my best to get it done (as it was always meant to be a short and sweet fic) but in the last 2 years I got engaged, married, graduated from university, pregnant, now have a 4 month old baby boy ect. I barely have time to sleep and shower right now so bare with me. I'm so honored by all the love this twisted little tale has gotten. Please know that I only took it down because I didn't have the time for it and more and more people were reading it in my absence and I didn't want to disappoint even more readers than I already had (I also have a profile devoted to the Twilight fandom with extremely popular stories over there I've left them high and dry with). I'm reposting because of a review from TheShadowedKissedAngel, who very kindly wrote that she missed this story and wished that the existing chapters were still up for her to read. **

**So, here's to you TheShadowedKissedAngel, and everyone else that has given my writing a chance. I am deeply humbled. **

Disclaimer: All Hunger Games characters and core personality traits are the property of SC. I own nothing, nor do I plan on profiting from using her work. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Prologue; The Career**

The audience watched with rapt attention, not a soul able to look away from the handsome tribute. The boy, more man than anyone in the world could claim to be, exuded the most perplexing conundrum of vibes that had even the seasoned and unshakable Caesar Flickerman baffled in his handling of this particular interview.

Being able to recognize the young blonde as lethal was as easy as sensing death from the center of a swarm of Tracker Jackers, but he was more beautiful than any advanced Capital procedure could replicate. The boy had a smile that could lure even the flightiest of creatures to their demise.

Panem was in love in ways that put Finnick O'dair to shame.

"As of the latest figures, you have the highest odds out of the entire lot, my boy," Flickerman continued after sensationally witty introductions, grinning with that air of personal warmth he seemed to be capable of replicating no matter his company, "With chances like those, you must have already purchased your ticket home."

The audience giggled as a collective entity.

"I'm much more comfortable with action than I am planning, Caesar. I'll buy that ticket when I've earned it," the boy said humbly.

Not a single one of the other tributes believed a breath of that; not only his show of modest self-confidence but more importantly, the notion that he wasn't an absolutely master of strategy.

The blue-haired show host seemed genuinely taken in, patting the charming character's shoulder. "We're sure you will, we're sure you will…" he waved his hand and was instantly backed by the mass cries of reassurance and faith, "But when you have, my boy, what is it you want most from that bright future?"

It would ordinarily be a cruel question, considering the grand majority of the children to walk that stage hadn't a chance in hell at a future that didn't end in a painful and highly publicized death, but few held any doubt of this candidate's abilities and Caesar was able to take liberties.

The alpha male grew pensive for a moment, short enough to fit nicely into the brief interview allotment, then leaned into Flickerman as one would when sharing secret, "To be honest, I've always wanted a family."

Every womb in the audience ached simultaneously and women of all ages cooed at his sweetness. Most competitors from his district were machines so bent on killing that even faking a desire for such human urges was beyond them.

Flickerman placed a hand to his chest in a show of fighting back deep emotion, "Well none of us have any doubt you would be more than capable of protecting your brood," he flattered shamelessly, inciting laughter, "And I couldn't imagine anything short of a full line of young ladies vying for your affections. Do we have any special girl in particular out there rooting for you?"

The blonde smiled, surprisingly skilled at conveying wistfulness, "There's a girl out there, Caesar, the most beautiful in all the districts and braver than any of them combined. However, I can guarantee she isn't rooting for me."

The viewers gasped, sure that no girl in her right mind could possibly resist such a specimen of virile and masculinity. Already the flighty females of the Capital were prepared to leave their wealthy husbands for the district visitor should he so much as grace them with a glance in their direction.

Flickerman clucked with indignation on his companion's behalf, "I'll tell you what. You go out, and you win these games and I'm _sure_ you'll win her heart right along with them."

The boy's eyes flashed directly into the camera as the last seconds of his interview dwindled by, all of Panem privy to the unsettling ice-blue hue of a powerful predator and for a beat in time, it seemed as if the whole of the nation felt the chill of his intensity.

"Winning wont help me in this cause, I'm afraid. When I watched her sacrifice herself to save her sister I knew she was the one for me…

"I also knew I'd have to kill her."

The chime of the buzzer went unheard as the crowd dissolved into earsplitting peels of scandal and excitement at the confession of Peeta Mellark, career tribute from District One.

Behind the stage, Katniss' knees buckled with fear.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All Hunger Games characters and core personality traits are the property of SC. I own nothing, nor do I plan on profiting from using her work. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter One**

Haymitch told her to keep away from the flawless devil at all costs, the opposite side of the arena, if she could manage it.

"If he comes after you, it's not because he wants to propose, _sweetheart_."

He needn't have bothered.

There were very few things that truly scared Katniss, and with her loved ones hidden safely away in District Twelve, that list was shorter still. Regardless, it was incredibly unnerving to know exactly how one was going to die; to walk along side the man who was sure to take her life. Mellark was her personal reaper.

She could feel cold blue eyes on her where ever she went.

Back at home, Katniss could feign illness so convincingly she'd have the most reputable of physicians—were such a thing to exist in Twelve—ready to write out her death certificate, in order to avoid the annual trip into the mines that enslaved her District. As fierce as the hardened female was thought to be, she was never too proud for avoidance.

So it was yet another testament to his abilities when he caught her alone in the elevator, shoving the poor, meek male tribute from her district out on his ass as if he were a stack of flour. She tried to dart out the rapidly closing doors, desperate as a hare in a fox den, but the brut of a boy shot his arm out in front of her before she'd even seen him move.

He was so strong, so incredibly _solid_, that the force of her own momentum momentarily knocked the breath out of her as she slammed into him.

"Where you going, girl on fire?" he crooned to her, voice as smooth and lovely as the rest of him.

If ever there were evidence that the wealthy District One had managed to get their paws on the Capitals technological advancement in human genetics, this perfect beast what as compelling proof as any.

Katniss tried her hardest not to show her fear but her much smaller frame shook with it. "You aren't allowed to touch me here, Career. They'll have you charged so fast your head will spin," she snapped viciously.

She hadn't realized she had instinctively back herself into a corner until his massive body was progressing towards her. The very air in the small, enclosed space seemed to dissipate as he pinned her to the wall.

"Now that's just not true, baby," he shook his head slowly, eyes sparkling with amusement, "I'm allowed to _touch_ you all I want. I just can't harm you… yet."

To make the distinction as clear as crystal, he brazenly slid his large hand between her thighs to cupped her sex. It had precious little protection under the thin, tight material they provided for training and he was the first person to ever feel her in this way. She gasped in a mixture of terror and foreign, immediate bliss as it rocked through her body.

"That feels good, doesn't it, Katniss? I'm _allowed_ to bring you pleasure," he purred down at the trapped girl, "If you'll let me."

His spell only coaxed a few seconds of submission out of her and she was quick to slap his hand away from her person. The agreeable sensation was gone right along with it and this left her nerves confused and wary.

"Over my dead body," she spat, angry with both the monster in front of her and herself for the moment of weakness. She longed for the basket case Cato, who would take the lone elevator ride to discretely snap her neck like a normal homicidal maniac.

This boy was infinitely more dangerous. This Career could turn her against _herself_ and to date, she had always been the only one she could depend on for survival.

He cocked his head in a gesture few would deny as playful, "I was rather hoping I'd get to enjoy you before that happened. I was even willing to make concessions…"

Like any prey animal facing death, Katniss was entirely distrustful but foolishly curious as to what he meant by that, hope being a heady poison, "Like I'd believe anything that came out of your mouth."

"Oh baby," Peeta grinned and brushed his fingers through her hair just to prove he could, "You don't have damn bit of choice, now do you? Listen to your mentor, try to stay away from me in the arena, Katniss. You'll find me extremely… persistent in my pursuit."

She believed him. At worst he'd have her running until her legs could no longer carry her, at best, she'd live a few days trapped high up in a tree before starvation forced her right down onto the tip of his spear.

"So I should just sit on my pedestal at the cornucopia and wait patiently for you to come and collect me?" her laugh was sharp and had the unfortunate ring of pre-hysteria.

His handsome face seemed genuinely uncomfortable at the suggestion, though he continued to pet her like a prized kitten, "_No_. That's no place for you. Find cover for a few hours. Wait until you hear the last of the cannons. _Then_ I'll come and collect you. I want the Girl on Fire with my careers."

Her mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with raw cotton but she managed to speak, "Right. Because if I somehow manage to get past my aversion to you, Cato and those two _shrinking violets_ are sure to welcome me with open arms."

The boy sneered with the first sign of real hostility he'd shown since trapping her in the tiny steel room. He pressed her body against the panel behind her with the unyielding length of his own. She felt his heated breath fan across the flesh of her neck and wondered if it was similar to the sensation one would feel in the seconds before a wolf tore into their jugular.

She could then hear pounding on the other side of the metal doors, could make out the familiar cursing of Haymitch as he threatened her abductor with a fate worse than any death one might face in the Games.

Still, he kept her pinned, too distracted or unconcerned to pay her rescue party any mind. Katniss could feel a thick bulge digging into her belly and was schooled enough in the basics of Anatomy to know what he was grinding gently against her.

Her face flamed like the fire that Capital all attributed to her.

"You don't think I'm capable of protecting what's mine?" he growled, his fingers wrapped around her slender throat in a fashion that was meant to warn, not harm.

"I don't belong to you, Career," the terrified female whispered softly, her instinct urging her away from the hostility she'd normally react with.

He kissed her then, the first she had ever experienced.

It wasn't the lip splitting plundering one would expect from a man who's life revolved around killing. It was tender but full of unmistakable ownership—_sweltering domination_—and didn't end until the moment the doors behind them were pried open.

She had to remember how to breath.

"I'll have you by my side or underneath me, Katniss Everdeen. _That_ choice is yours."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All Hunger Games characters and core personality traits are the property of SC. I own nothing, nor do I plan on profiting from using her work. No copyright infringement is intended.

Again, not betaed.

**Chapter Three**

Katniss dutifully held a bag of ice to the large knot forming on the side of her mentor's head.

She was no great healer like her mother or Prim, but Effie had taken one look at the purpling wound before promptly fainting and the stubborn man hadn't allowed a single Capital attendant anywhere near him, so she was left to the task by default. Haymitch was still scathing from the incident but Katniss could sense that it was his pride that had taken the most painful of blows, not the alcohol ravaged brain that resided between his ears.

Had she not been so shaken, it might have been funny; Haymitch storming in to recue her and getting knocked out cold by the eighteen-year old career before he got a single syllable of threat out. He _had_ managed to get Mellark away from her—even if having him lightly reprimanded for assaulting a mentor hadn't been the original plan.

She snorted a laugh at the memory, unable to exert her usual level of control with such hopelessly rattled nerves, and was pinned with his famous, scornful glare.

"Yeah…real fuckin' funny, sweetheart. I'm sure the whole nation will get a little giggle when its _you_ he's beatin' on once the games start," Haymitch drawled.

The clever girl took no offense. District Twelve's mentor had been hard on her from the moment she stepped foot on the train to the main event. He was gentle with the boy tribute, kind even, and it took Katniss a few days to see the distinction for what it really was. Abernathy had already given the child up for dead. Like the behavior seen in so many species of wild animal, he had decided that humoring the weakest of his litter wasn't worth the attention it would divert from the youngling that had a lick of chance. He had more or less cast him aside to tend to the gem of the slums, the Capital's beloved Girl on Fire.

Haymitch showed her no mercy in exactly the same fashion the arena would deny it to her.

"Well come on," he insisted, pushing the icepack and her hand away from him, "What did the mutt have to say before you let him shove his whole god-damn tongue down your throat?"

This she _did_ take offense to, partly because it implied that she'd been an equal partner in the interaction with the uncompromising Career, but also because it called to inspection the few beats of time in which she _had_ willingly succumb to his force.

Her majestic eyes—the exact shade of the coal dust that coated her home district—flashed so intensely at the jab that even Haymitch squirmed in his seat.

"Nothing of consequence," she dismissed, finding the idea of rehashing Peeta's words both unnecessary and embarrassing.

Her mentor wouldn't allow the brush off, "Nothing any of them says to you at this point is without consequence," he growled at her, the exasperation of reasoning with a particularly stupid child, "There's more strategy to this than shooting squirrels out of their nut holes. If you haven't realized that by now-"

"He wants me to join his careers so he can fuck me," she interrupted, expression mild but tongue sharp, "If I don't wait for him after the slaughter at the cornucopia, his entire focus will be devoted to hunting me down."

The older man showed no reaction to blunt announcement that would have had Effie blushing red right through all those layers of makeup, but Katniss watched as he stood and poured a generous helping of the amber liquid he'd been cutting back on.

He handed it to her.

"And you don't think this is important, why?"

She was willing to bet Prim's goat that the first sip of his liquor put actual hair on her chest but she felt silly looking. "Not unimportant. It just doesn't change anything," she shrugged, "I'm not stronger than him but I know I'm faster."

"Irrelevant. You just landed yourself an ally," Haymitch corrected simply.

Katniss was sure she had misunderstood, "You have to be joking."

"Serious as a heart attack, sweetheart," he met her gaze evenly. As though the little sliver of confidence in winning she had lost back in that elevator had been transferred to him, his eyes glittered with it, "There's a reason the Careers win nine times out of ten. If you spend even the first half of the game in that alliance, you stand more of a chance than any of them."

"Assuming he doesn't kill me the moment he's in range," she argued what she considered to be a major hole in the plan. "It's a trick. And not even a tempting one! Those terms are hardl-"

"Now's not the time to guard that maidenhead, princess. You can negotiate that on your terms or his. If he wants it, he'll take it," he told her, a touch of sympathy she wished he'd forgo altogether.

Her brain tried to process his meaning but it stumbled and tripped around the truth, protective and unwilling. The Hunger Games were a pitch-black cloud on the already darkened sky of existence in the districts but that had never, in her recollection, been a part of their horrors.

"But he can't-," she murmured, "They wouldn't let him-"

Her mentor placed a comforting hand on her shoulder but didn't sugarcoat anything for her sake, "There are _no rules in the arena_, tribute Everdeen," he repeated a common sentiment, thus giving it new meaning, "You don't think the occasional _sick fuck _doesn't take advantage of that?"

She didn't want to believe him. She had always assumed that the worst the games could bring her was death. "But I've never seen that happen," she whispered.

"Of course you hadn't. The games are meant to disturb the districts, not entice. That footage is only for the Capital viewers," he informed bitterly, "If the game makers just wanted a good fight they'd throw district males into the arena and let the blood fall."

Katniss tried to figure out what this added element meant for _her_. She had no noted attachment to her chastity. It prevailed mostly out of lack of interest in the boys of Twelve than out of any conscious show of restraint on her behalf. Once in the weeks following the death of her father, when her little sister was starving in front of her very eyes, she had considered bartering this piece of herself to a Peacekeeper known for taking advantage of girls in such situations. Had she not been much younger than his usual tastes, she would have become one of these girls, she was sure.

This wasn't so different. This was still about survival.

"I'd still have to trust him," she shook head pitifully, resigned, "I don't want to trust anyone. Much less _him_."

"Katniss, you had the best personal training scores awarded to a tribute in three years. He's already set the _two_ of you up as the exclusive recipients of sponsor dollars should you do even a marginally convincing job of mutual affection. Get it out of your head that you aren't a commodity worth keeping alive because if you believe that… they will too."

He sat back and appraised her with pride, "Use him to get your hands on that bow, sweetheart. Then use _that_ to put an arrow through his eye like he's one of your squirrels."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All Hunger Games characters and core personality traits are the property of SC. I own nothing, nor do I plan on profiting from using her work. No copyright infringement is intended.

Katniss had sixty seconds to adjust to a brightness so blinding, it could have been nothing but one of the many Capital-controlled features of the arena. The forest surrounding her was as familiar as an old friend, but that light… it wasn't natural.

The first thing she saw was the bow.

Jarring chimes that rang away their last moments of guarantied safety robbed her of her ability to orient herself and the deadly distance between her and the perfect, glinting equipment seemed entirely achievable.

Though both men had given her identical advice regarding participation in the initial slaughter, it was Peeta Mellark's voice that weeded into her head.

"_That's no place for you. Find cover for a few hours. Wait until you hear the last of the cannons. Then I'll come and collect you."_

Her shaky stance finally solidified with the wave of defiance his order brought out in her. Of course he wouldn't want her to have an opportunity to find her weapon of choice. He wanted her defenseless, dependant, and easy to kill when she had served her purpose. Should she have the hunting set from the very beginning, she'd have no need for an alliance with the Capital's pet districts.

It was this logic of duress which sent her sprinting into the most volatile showdown of the games the second the invisible mines surrounding her were deactivated. The resourceful young woman was no stranger to life or death decisions, but this was the first time she felt her existence so acutely in peril. She could battle through starvation with a remarkable lust to persevere but one of Cloves' knives thrust through her brain would end her before she even knew it was coming.

The finality of such a fate left her pallet dry with dread.

Katniss was still yards away from her intended target when she realized her mistake. The prize she had her heart set on, arrows that would kill without the risk of close proximity, were much closer to the center of the field than the destinations of some of her fellow tributes and she wasn't nearly the fastest runner present.

By the time she was closing in on her beckon, killing was all around her.

Unable to look away, she watched Cato—whom favored a specific sword but had not been able to control his suppressed blood lust long enough to bother searching it out—push a smaller girl from Nine to the dirt at his feet and stomped her head into the ground with nothing but the standard issue boots.

Katniss' gut rolled violently, her system stocked by the sight.

When she was finally able to pull her eyes away from the girl's broken face, they locked right onto the large, volatile hunter looming above the dying body. The district Twelve female fretted internally over the unimpressive distance between her and Two's practiced killer.

Cato assessed her lazily, unbothered by the crimson liquid spraying up at his pant legs in weakening bursts.

She was sure she was going to die then, the impossibility of out fighting such a predator with no advantage or edge perforating her awareness. He lend forward slightly, teasing her with a movement that feigned advancement. Some innate, rodent like instinct told her that turning and running would only trigger his urge to chase. Her muscles ached with the effort of holding her ground.

A gleaming set of white teeth flashed across his face at the open show of defiance. It conveyed an indulgent sort of amusement as well the healthy measure of malice that seemed omnipresent in the male's aura.

Though just as physically formidable, it was Mellark's ability to suppress his air of danger that made him a true killer. Katniss could never be charmed into forgetting Cato's particular brand of aggression.

"Hm," he mused, his tenor unhurried despite the carnage surrounding him, "Maybe he's right about you," his smile widened to the point of gleeful insanity, "No harm in keeping you around. Plenty of other targets to keep the fun going...

_Duck_."

This last word was said as causally as any that had came before it and was awarded no special emphases. It was not the warning at all, rather, the small throwing knife he pulled from his pocket and sent flying as fast as any bullet, that had Katniss spinning out of her inhabited air space a moment before it was due to pierce her throat.

For an instant, she was sure she had been the intended target.

Then she felt the mist of warmth coat the back of her neck.

The body hadn't even hit the ground by the time she had worked up the courage to turn her head, but stood frozen and gaunt with bright red flowing relentlessly from the base of Cato's blade. The weapon had lodge square between the boy's eyes but Katniss was still easily able to recognize her fellow tribute.

She stumbled forward to catch his slight weight just as his lifeless muscles stopped supporting his frame.

Her chest heaved out a little sob as she realized he was already dead, so immediately distraught that she paid no attention to her own safety as Cato gated over to the District Twelve's twosome on the blood covered ground.

"He was just a fucking kid," she hissed up at him.

His features—which had held an expression that closely replicated a proud, loyal golden retriever whom had just properly retrieved the master's newspaper—melted into confusion, then irritation. "Are you kidding me, Everdeen? Look again."

Her grey eyes followed his to the boy's hand, fingers clenched as tightly as death around a poised hunting knife.

"He was _right_ behind you, about to gut you like a fish, _Kitty Kat_," Cato barked out a laugh unbefitting the topic. "Had more gull than I ever would have given him credit for. That's one way to make sure your mentor took him seriously."

Understanding trickled in slowly as she clung to the bleeding child that had been desperate enough to kill her in an attempt to strength his chances of returning home to their district.

She gazed down at his tiny hand, the unfamiliar way he griped the blade, how his terrified hold was so tight he had cut open the inside of his own small fingers, and knew she couldn't blame him for his failed attempt at her life.

Her vision blurred as the salted, metallic smell of his essence hit her. She could imagine nothing but Prim's sliced palms in place of the boy's.

At the very cusp of consciousness, just as the petrifying scene around her was turning black to shield her mind while forsaking her body, she felt a pair of huge arms pull her away from her dead companion.

"_I fucking told you this wasn't for you, baby, didn't I?" _


End file.
